


One Good Thing...

by ArtisticBard (Kosho)



Series: 100 Songs Challenge [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Fallout 4
Genre: 100 songs challenge, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, F/M, Not Happy, Not a Crossover, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Sex in a Car, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:17:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/ArtisticBard
Summary: "One good thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain."So I'm really late to the party, but I like writing around music. I found a 100 songfic challenge, and I have a lot of music, many of which inspires me. Whether or not I get those songs, I guess that's random chance ;3;.There will be a few fandoms, mostly likely. Probably mostly Fallout and Dragon Age, but maybe others. Anyway, prepare for sexy times, drama, fluff, and probably rage and angst. Who knows.





	1. Guillotine

**Author's Note:**

> This has a good chance of not being great, but I'll really try haha.

Song: Guillotine

Artist: Jon Bellion

* * *

  
  


Deacon tried to think about how they ended up in this position. Being objective and detached was his entire life, and yet, here she was. Asleep on his chest, her fingers loosely curled against his shoulders. He listened when she spoke, for once, not for the information, but because somehow, it had come to this. He was dying to be apart of her, and it was frightening to want anything, let alone her. She was animated, energized, and then, she was tired, and before he knew what he was doing, he offered to share a bed. Wasn’t the first time, they had to play it close at times, part of the job, being convincing enough to fool people who didn’t ask the right questions. He hesitated to touch her, afraid to disturb her fragile peace, soothed into slumber by the light rise and fall of his chest, the carefully measured breaths he took. She was a candle in a dark world, a faint warmth, a gentle glow, something he craved, even though he definitely knew better. 

 

She confided things in him that he had already known, but it had all been for his own benefit. He couldn’t bring himself to share what he knew of her. Some hoarded worthless treasures, memories of things that once were, he hoarded  _ her. _ The things she told him, the moments when she felt all alone, the things that frightened her. Everything. His lips were sealed, and not even torture could pry her secrets from him. Maybe it had to do with how readily she called him on his lies, allowing him his privacy,  _ knew _ he had an entire graveyard hanging up in his theoretical closet, and it didn’t bother her. He genuinely thought it was naive to be so trusting, to get so close without knowing anything of consequence, but it was just who she was. Even if it was only pretend, she was more than willing to put in actual effort to build a life with him, a hollow shell of something that resembled the real thing. 

 

He had to have lost his mind, to have fallen for that lie. He could feel it in her eyes, her touch, hear it in the words, and the way she spoke. She loved him, and as much as he hated to admit it, that he had accidentally began to care for something beyond the mission, beyond his wall, it wasn’t one-sided. He couldn’t begin to imagine telling her how he felt, but she knew. She had to, a lady like her, smart as a whip, she  _ knew _ . Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the uncomfortable way she began to stir, her loose grip on him growing restless, more desperate. This was a terrible idea, but there was no more fighting, not against her. Deacon sighed, holding her tightly, lost in the scent of her hair. Her head moved, though her eyes stayed shut, shifting in his embrace enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips. 

 

Not their first kiss, but this was  _ real _ . Not the empty show they put on when it was called for. They had gone further, sometimes wrapped up in the moment, sometimes driven out of a need to get her to focus, the past a constant hound nipping at her heels. That had really been his first hint. A night far back, he couldn’t say how long, standing watch by the window while she slept. Deacon never had to ask to know what had to be haunting her, the way she twitched, then thrashed, whimpering in the pillow. He let it go until he was certain if he hadn’t, she’d call the wrong kind of attention to them. Disturbing her was never in his plans, and taking eyes off the area was a terrible idea, but the only one he had. Gently shifting her, he took a seat next to her, propping the pillow against his hip, lightly fondling her hair. His thumb brushed her neck, just long enough to feel the way her heartbeat quickened, like she knew he was there. The first sign he had begun to stumble. 

Still, this pretend life they had built, it was like watching it materialize. Like walls that he could pass right on through had solidified, and it wasn’t the cage he expected. It was theirs, she wasn’t just another agent here, she was his, this house was theirs, and it was terrifying. He  _ liked _ the shell that was Deacon, he was the gutted out junk picked over for scrap bits, the fridge in the ditch with no insides. Simple, uncomplicated, and focused, the best that could be hoped for if he didn’t want to wear the same blinders everyone else did. Her presence was...he couldn’t explain it, empty as he was, her feelings had spread throughout him, put the pieces back inside him, dusted him off. Gave him a purpose he never asked for. Every word, every action, every look, it burned him, she was fire and he was burning.  _ Deacon loved her. _ So that was it then? There was no more fighting it, he was giving in? He had lost his mind, and she didn’t flinch...


	2. How To Start A War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little post-break up Solavellan, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really wanted to do this one more literally. Was going to be another Fallout 4 thing, cross faction kind of thing, but idk. Maybe later I'll do that anyway.

Song: How To Start a War

Artist: Simon Curtis

 

* * *

Lavellan cradled her bare face, staring at him from the upper floors. Leliana was elsewhere, one of the few times such an occurrence took place. One of the few times she felt at ease just letting her thoughts flow, and after the bomb he had dropped, telling her what she thought she knew was a lie, removing her frail ties to her way of life, and then, telling her they were a mistake. In one moment, one agonizingly slowly played out moment, her whole world came to an end. If he knew she was there, he didn’t acknowledge her presence, and her thoughts flowed freely. It had all felt like fate really, meeting him, slowly realizing her attraction, the joy she felt when he returned her affections. With the threat of world’s end still looming over the Inquisition, she felt at ease.

 

_ “I thought we were meant to be…” she admitted guiltily in her mind.  _

 

Thought it would be the two of them together, side by side, facing whatever end would play out, whether they lived, or died with the rest of the world, it would be together. Evidently, that wasn’t what he wanted, and now that it was done, if she had even a shred of self-respect left, she’d pick up the shattered pieces and move on. Begin again and work on building her walls more carefully this time. 

 

“ _ How am I to move, when I can’t even breathe…?”  _  her thoughts left her alone as well. 

 

It might have been a little exaggerated, but it was true. It felt like a blow that transcended not just her body, but her soul as well, and the longer she stared down at him, the more painful it became, the less she felt like she could control herself. Walking, breathing, talking, all of it felt impossible. She never asked for love, never expected it at the start of everything, and yet, this wasn’t love, not anymore, you didn’t just give up on it. How many tales began and ended this way? Stories of love that was meant to be enduring, only for something to happen and it all vanished in an instant. Wars had been fought for less, but no cause was said to be as strong as a broken heart. 

 

* * *

 

 

Solas felt her looking, knew how she must feel. He wanted to see things through, at her side, but it wasn’t possible the way it was. She felt abandoned. Thought he had left her stranded and helpless, but even now, at least in intent and in his mind, he was still at her side, holding her hand, guiding her. Perhaps she’d never see it for what it was, but that was the truth of it.. She was blinded to it, couldn’t see his heart, maybe didn’t even want to anymore. His greatest fear was being alone, and yet here he was, the cause of it, and she wasn’t trying anymore, she was finishing what he began, adhering to his words, without considering the intent. His will had waned enough, if she were to come down at that very moment, ask him to reconsider with those sad eyes of hers, he hadn’t the strength to resist. Lavellan had only heard the end, and couldn’t find the strength to set aside her ache to try again. He hadn’t expected to feel anything for her, didn’t ask to love her, it was just something that happened, something he couldn’t prevent, couldn’t stop once it had begun to happen. The world was coming to a halt, and she was still trying to keep it spinning, and here they were, fighting. Not like the rest of Thedas, swords and spells changed for silence and stares. Even now, he still loved her, but it was hard to tell if she still loved him too. How could he know, with nothing but pain written on her face where her fragile smile used to be, that almost guilty expression she often wore, like she was wondering how it was fair that the world was dying, and she was happy. Now, now it was like she was seeing behind the curtain, and it wasn’t at all what she had envisioned. This was not how it was meant to be. If she were anyone else, surely it would have been different, but she had to be ‘her’, had to be special, imprinted on his heart in a way he couldn’t erase. Tearing away everything she cherished, and crushing her heart was an act of war, one he never imagined having to deal with, let alone starting it. 

 

He exhaled slowly, looking up, just as she looked down, their eyes meeting between across the space. Her features softened briefly, just for a second, she was vulnerable, and instead of that warmth, the peace he cherished in her, it hardened into something he no longer recognized. She was lost to him, and it was killing him. 


	3. 80's Film

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have my list of songs written down. I figured I'd do this one next since I already had a Jon Bellion chapter previously. I might try to group them by artist in cases when I have more than one. (and there's like sooo much Simon Curtis and like...Twenty One Pilots in the list, considering it was on shuffle.) 
> 
> Either way, just for the sake of this fic, since I already had to AU it a bit, I figured they were probably both around 20-22.

Song: 80’s Films

Artist: Jon Bellion 

 

* * *

Cullen smiled, and the world felt brighter. It was the kind of sheepish grin that made everything a little better. They’d known each other for years, though they moved in different circles for the most part. Same story one might expect to hear, jock, gifted, celebrated and the like. Her, the shy type who didn’t really know how to socialize at the time, focused more on studying than anything. Despite no special interest in sports, she never missed a game, if only to secretly fawn over how  _ good _ he looked in action. He leaned back in the seat, draping an arm loosely around her shoulders, a faint blush crawling across his cheeks. High school was a long time ago, and the seemingly impossible had somehow happened, her of all people had caught his attention, enough for them to have dated for a while. This though, this was strange, for both of them. They had caught a movie marathon on tv, and somehow, the topic had come up, eventually turning into him admitting he wondered what it was like, and her, perhaps through some strange desire to help him find out, had volunteered. Out in the black Chevelle he’d been driving since senior year, in the front seat, somehow roped into this just as much as they were was perhaps the only one who might reasonably be considered his best friend.

 

Despite his popularity, he hadn’t managed to become particularly close to anyone. One of the things she found charming about him was just how shy he was, the few times she stopped to wave and mumble out a nervous ‘hi!’ to him, he’d blush, barely raising his hand on the off chance she was talking to someone behind him and quickly shuffle by. Where his looks were a point of fascination, lip scar and all, hers worked against her, standing out in all the wrong ways. Not that she didn’t consider herself attractive, that wasn’t it really, but instead her ears, slightly pointed at the tips in a way that had people teasing her about having surgery. She hadn’t, of course, she was born this way, but that didn’t stop the teasing. Cullen though, he didn’t seem concerned about it. Dorian flicked a wave at her, and she nervously waved back, before his focus turned completely on the road ahead. 

 

“So...what’s it like, being the great Cullen Rutherford?” she asked, trying to ease the tension. 

 

He brought her closer, her head resting on his chest, his heart hammering against his chest. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one. He shrugged his other shoulder, unsure how to answer it at first. 

 

“I...well I mean, it’s alright. I’m sure I hit my peak in high school…” he mumbled. 

 

Biting her lip, she glanced up at him, shaking her head. “I don’t believe it for a second. This wouldn’t have happened in high school.” 

 

He nodded, stealing a quick glance up front, half concerned he might be spying on them, but he wasn’t. He turned on the radio, turning the volume up in an attempt to make it feel maybe a little more private. Leaning in, he pecked her cheek softly, inching his way closer to her lips, her hands resting on his shoulders. 

* * *

 

_ Cullen had first taken note of her in ninth grade, and he cursed himself at times for not mustering the courage to talk to her then, to let her know he liked her. Not that she said anything either, but he hoped she was looking at him every time she glanced his way, not at someone else. Even then, when everyone had kind of an awkward look to them, she stood out. Big, expressive brown eyes, full lips, scattered freckles, her hair swept up haphazardly in a messy ponytail, just enough to keep her wispy bangs out of her eyes. Always poring over books or scattered papers on her desk, pencil held in place between straight, white teeth. Once, he lost his mind, tapping her shoulder, meaning to talk to her finally, but when she turned to look, she mumbled a quick apology, leaning lower on her desk. It took a while to realize she thought he couldn’t see the board.  _

* * *

 

Her head tipped back, feeling his soft, almost hesitant bites on her neck, his hand creeping up the front of her shirt. He sighed, and it felt like she was dreaming, brushing against her thigh nervously like she might change her mind if he went too quickly. Slipping under the band of her bra, she gasped quietly, arching up against his fingers, like a reflex. 

* * *

 

_ Had they gotten to this point prior, he couldn’t begin to imagine how. He was busy a lot between training and actual games, and her parents were, as far as he had heard anyway, fairly strict as well, insistent that she focus more on her work than anything. Then again, he had noticed some of his less disciplined teammates bringing girls under the bleachers from time to time, there was that, maybe. Still, it hadn’t seemed like a place he should even think of her in. At the time, in his mind, she deserved better than that, if he had to imagine it, he figured she deserved no less than silk sheets and rose petals. More than he could offer her, in other words. Yet, here she was, just underneath him. Admittedly, it was probably not the best option still, but it said a lot that she was willing to, mostly for his sake.  _

* * *

 

She moaned when his fingers dipped into her panties, startling him briefly, a little considered she found it unpleasant, until she raised into his touch. Her eyes flitted to the back of the front seat, just for a moment. If he could hear her over the music, he didn’t give any indication, not that he was particularly interested one way or the other, it was no secret he had no interest in women, and he was simply too nice of a guy to pay attention to what they were doing. He returned to her lips, drawn back to kiss her again, deeper this time. She tasted sweet, faintly like peaches, a warmth to her that was pleasant. He groaned quietly, her hands slowly descending from his chest down to his jeans. She slid the button free, pulling the zipper, breaking the kiss long enough to huff out a sigh of relief, biting her lip gently. His free hand danced up her thigh, easing her skirt up, little by little, swallowing down his nerves. 

 

Aside from the fading light, there was little indication of how much time was passing, not that he was particularly concerned with it, and it didn’t seem like she cared either, lost in the moment as they were. He liked the way she writhed under him, her hold shifting from his shoulders, to his chest, his back, her legs tucked to his sides, then around his. Her chest rose and fell, her breath panted out almost in time with his, the sounds she made driving him crazy, her name finding its way off his lips in a breathy sigh. She quivered, her slim fingers sweeping through his hair, his stubble scratching along her shoulder while he nipped and sucked a path up her neck. Part of him was regretting the choice to stay mostly clothed, his shirt wet down the front from sweat, heat trapped between them, the window just inches above them fogged over. How fitting, she had once told him her favorite movie was Titanic, and this couldn’t be more appropriate...

* * *

 

_ A chill broke through the cracked window, and she shivered. He felt around the floor, fetching the blanket Dorian had suggested might come in handy. Cullen pulled it around them, resting his head on her shoulder, glancing down at her through far too heavy eyelids, noticing she was dozing off too, offering up one more lazy kiss before sleep washed over him. When they woke up, she leaned against his chest, looking around curiously. The sun had risen again, and Dorian was catching a nap in the front, the car turned off. He met her gaze, smiling that same sheepish grin.  _

 

“How’d we end up in a parking lot in Denerim?” she asked softly. 

 

Cullen shrugged as if to say he had no idea either. “I don’t know. Guess he just drove until he realized we fell asleep…” 

 

She gently grasped the front of his shirt, her face flushed shyly. “I...that was…” she blushed deeper. “My first time.” 

 

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head, unable to look away from her eyes. “Mine too…” he glanced out the window again briefly. “I could wake him up and drive you home if you like?” 

 

She shook her head, biting her lip for just a second. “I thought maybe if you didn’t mind, maybe I’d stay with you tonight? It’s a little closer than my place, right?” 

 

“A little, yeah.” he said, lightly kneading her shoulder. “You don’t mind coming over, I mean...you’ve never stayed over before.” 

 

Giving a resolute nod, she smiled shyly. “I don’t mind.” 

 

Not that it bothered him, in a way he was just glad that they were able to connect like this. He figured he’d lost his chance when they graduated, good thing that luck was on his side after all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite AU, I wanted to try and keep it to the source as much as I could. Also, since I'm pretty sure Cullen only mentioned having friends like once in relation to the Templars from Kinloch, so...improvised Dorian being his best friend for the sake of this.


End file.
